A blog chronicling my departure from urban life on the east coast to sheep farm and cheese making life on the west coast. Still recounting the meals I have eaten in my new setting, but with more sheep thrown into the mix.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Spring in the Fairmount/Art Museum Neighborhood

After I pointed E. in the right direction, L. and I walked home, taking our time to soak in the sun and the pretty. Serious pretty was going on. Seriously.Then we went to King of Prussia and bought shoes. And glitter. Well, I bought glitter. L. only bought shoes. I bought both, because that's how I roll. I can't wait for an occasion to wear my new strappy wedges. After the shopping part of our day was completed, we drove to Forbidden Drive and took a walk along the creek. We passed many a person fishing, and I made sure to take a few photographs of the newly green ground.So. Funny thing. We were walking on the opposite side of the creek from Forbidden Drive. This meant that the path was far narrower and there were fewer people along it than the more well traveled/graveled Forbidden Drive path. As I already mentioned, we certainly saw a good number of folks. But the highlight of our walk is safely and surely when we ran into Chris. We didn't know Chris before he stopped us on the path and asked me if I was a photographer, but in the next fifteen minutes we got to know more about Chris than many people learn about another person on a first date. For example, Chris suffers from Lyme Disease. Chris was married for 28 years. Chris has a wooden walking stick; he had another one that he got from England in the early 80s but customs took it from him when he got back because it may have had some sort of bug on it or something. Chris likes a woman with curves. Chris and his 21 year old daughter bond over Jim Morrison and Led Zeppelin. Chris has lived in the area his whole life, and can tell you what the Fairmount park area and many of it houses were like back in the day. He also suffers from depression. He also realized late in life that all most women want is a man who will listen to them. Oh, you want to know another thing about Chris? He asked L. and me if I was her mother. Honestly. Honestly he asked this of us. He wasn't joking. Nor did he back down from the plausibility of that being the case when we guffawed and I acted vaguely offended (which I was). I think if it had been up to Chris we would still be jawing a week later, but we extricated ourselves and continued with our walk. And I swear to all that is swearable, if anyone suggests that there is any legitimate reason why a man would think that L. and I (born in the same month in the same year) could be confused for a mother/daughter team, well, shut it.